she totes had it coming to her


| Fluff | Comedy | Smut | Slight Angst | Nerd!Hoseok | Braces!Hoseok

word count: 5k

❝ An engineering prodigy and your resident college loser, Jung Hoseok coerces you into teaching him the ways of the dating world. 

trigger warnings: bullying, mentions of suicide

“I don’t understand why we had to come here first, why couldn’t we all head to the field and meet there?” Jungkook huffs before throwing himself down on your couch.

Jimin only grins at the younger boy before shoving him playfully, “Yah. Your noona wanted you to stop by it’s the least you could do.”

Jungkook glares at him ruefully before turning to Yoongi, “You got roped in too?”

“Would I ever be around you people of my own free will?” Yoongi grumbles, his arms crossed in a pout but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes when he’s met with Taehyung’s smiling face.

“I brought company! I hope she doesn’t mind.” He smiles, offering Namjoon a seat next to him, he’s only partially startled when Yoongi’s foot stretches out, successfully kicking the chair before the younger boy can steal a sit next to Taehyung.

“Trade seats, I’m sitting closer to these rodents than my designated three feet rule allows.” Yoongi mutters but Taehyung’s heart does weird flip flops in his chest.

“So why are we all here?” Namjoon queries.

“You are all here because I’m doing Hoseok’s official unveiling.” You grin excitedly, jogging out of your bedroom long enough to check if everyone’s present. You frown, “Where’s Nayeon?”

At the exact moment Nayeon comes running in, toting several shopping bags before nearly collapsing on the kitchen table, panting and sweaty.

“Sorry! I’m late! But I’m here… I got caught up at the mall.” She grins sheepishly.

You match her smile for all its worth and almost miss the slightly disgruntled expression Jungkook is sporting. You swallow a sigh but not before sending him a stern look and a promise of addressing the issue later. But for now… for now you had other things to deal with.

You shuffle around with your phone before finding the perfect song and set it on the table, next to your Bluetooth speaker.

“Why are we listening to Sixpence?” Yoongi frowns at your theatrics.

“Have you never watched She’s All That?” You scoff at Yoongi’s blank expression, “If you must know peasant I’m paying tribute to the most iconic makeover unveiling in movie history. Now shut up so he can make his entrance.”

It takes but all of one minute to quiet the groaning room with an angry glare but they can’t help it not when you were so… corny.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” you begin theatrically, a grin tugging at your lips, “I’d like to present to you the new, not improved but different—Jung Hoseok.”

A pregnant pause followed your declaration and everyone stared expectantly at your bedroom door, but lo and behold no Hoseok was in sight.

“Hoseok you punk there almost at the,” You tapped your foot expectantly, “…. chorus.”

You finish lamely but in your defense Hoseok had finally made his grand entrance from your room and despite having been in there with him for the better part of the day, his transformation was still shocking to you because who knew that underneath all that he was—

“Blonde.” Taehyung says dumbly.

“Hot.” Nayeon grins.

“A work of goddamn art.” You agree.

Hoseok fidgets under close scrutiny but it doesn’t take away from the overall presentation you had cooked up on a small budget. It wasn’t much and you hadn’t been expecting Hoseok of all people to be able to make a black t shirt and some light wash jeans look like it came off the cover of a goddamn GQ spread but it worked. A lot of it had to do with the fact that you managed to shove his fat head under a dad cap and tweeze those godforsaken eyebrows. He wouldn’t go as far as to let you fill them in but he was at last wearing a moisturizer today.

Baby steps, you reminded yourself.

“Not bad.” Jimin muses before turning to you, “It’s actually really not bad, Jesus Christ what are you a fucking magician?”

You take a grandiose bow before turning to the silent participants in the room, cocking a brow at them and reaping Hoseok’s praise as though it were your own.

“You look completely unrecognizable.” Yoongi says, muttering a curse when Taehyung shoulder bumps him, “It’s a good thing, okay?”

“So you look like this,” Namjoon began slowly, “underneath all that… gross… and you choose to hide it because?”

“You’re all a bunch fucking critics, aren’t you?” Hoseok seethes.

You roll your eyes at him before turning to Jimin, “Are we all set to go?”

“Nayeon’s changing and she’ll be out.” Jungkook says closing her bedroom room, and you raised a brow at that because you hadn’t realized he had followed Nayeon into her room.

You had so many questions.

All of which took a backseat to the current stud sitting next to you so you shrugged and began collecting your purse to leave.

“You’re glaring.” Yoongi notes lightly as he pushes you further down the bench room for himself.

You school your features but not well enough that Yoongi doesn’t pick up on the snarl you barely bite back. It only takes a moment under close scrutiny for you to be turning to take it out on the nearest victim—it just so happened to be Jungkook.

“Close your fucking legs, Jeon do you think you own the entire goddamn bench?” You growl, glancing at his legs that were spread so wide his thigh was tucked firmly against your own.

“What are you even doing in the dug out? Go sit with the rest of the crowd.” He rolls his eyes at your outburst but obliges, turning to talk to Jimin and ignore you.

“Is there a reason you’re so testy?” Yoongi queries, raising both hands when you pin him with a look, “Not that you need one. I’m all for bitching at unsuspecting victims.”

“I’m not bitchi—you know what, never mind.” You scowl and Yoongi scoffs.

“Is it because you’re boyfriends garnering so much unwarranted attention?” Yoongi hums, “Because if you didn’t want that to happen then you shouldn’t have done such a good job. Though even I wasn’t expecting that kind of transformation from him of all people, Jesus.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You snap, arms crossed.

“Is that why you’re mad?” Yoongi sing-songs.

You open your mouth to let out a biting remark but the words get caught in your throat when the sixth girl today in the span of an hour, approaches Hoseok, sat perched in the bed of Jeon’s truck with Taehyung and Namjoon. You had been sitting there too but after the first three girls approached him, one even using you under the guise of friendship when you took like one class with her sophomore year, you had been out quicker than Ellen Degeneres during Pride.

You really should be over there coaching him, because all things considered, he was still a nincompoop when it came to girls – unable to look them in the eye or not stammer, unless of course the girl was you then he’d tell you to fuck right off and stop irritating him.


“I’m not mad,” you say, plastering on a fake smile and grateful for the sunglasses you had donned after his comment because at least he couldn’t see the the spiteful glare you were sporting.

And you ask yourself, not for the first time today why you’re feeling so… weird.

“Okay, I lied, I am mad.” You relent finally, “I’m mad because I did all of that and the brat still has the nerve to feel insecure as though he doesn’t look like the poster boy for orthodontists weekly.”

You said it through barely clenched teeth, praying you did a good enough job of not wearing your feelings on your forehead like an idiot. But if Yoongi noticed he either didn’t say anything or didn’t care enough to mention it. (It was more likely the latter).

“Speaking of which, here comes the cheese grater now.” Yoongi snickers at his own joke and true to his word a very flushed and frazzled Hoseok is making his way over to you.

You frown at his expression before asking the obvious.

“Are you okay?”

No. I’m not okay.” He hisses, before glancing down at Jungkook’s thigh which had found its way back to yours.

Why the hell wouldn’t he close his goddamn legs?

“What’s your deal?” You nod and watch as Hoseok exhales warily.

“Is this seat taken? No? Perfect!” He grimaces, shoving Jungkook’s legs closed before squeezing in between the two of you.

Jungkook glares at the older boy for a brief second before continuing his conversation with Jimin.

“I can’t do this.” Hoseok says harshly, pinning you with a scowl. Your reaction is delayed when you get caught up in his eyes, brows slashed down angrily and no longer playing the victim to a horribly overgrown fringe.

He had a really nice fucking forehead.

“D-do what?” You clear your throat, going to sip from your beer.

“This. Talking to them!” He says vehemently, gesturing to a pair of scantily clad girls leaning against the truck, he waves weakly at them when they brandish a grin in his direction. “I’m not a social person and they… are very forward?”

“Forward?” You squint your eyes at him with a frown.

“One of them grazed my dick when they put there hand on my thigh.” He hissed.

What?” You don’t realize your shouting until your lips already curled and Yoongi is cocking a brow at you. You clear your throat before averting your gaze, “I mean… that’s so rude?”

“Anyway, let me stay here,” he huffs out, “You’re really good at scaring people off.”

“Hey!” You cry out indignantly before narrowing your eyes at him, “No offense my guy but wasn’t that the whole point of this entire thing? Getting you laid? Those girls want you to fuck them. I can tell!”

“Okay that’s great but I’m nervous and I… I know as soon as I open my mouth it’s game over. They’ll ask me to eat their pussy and I’ll start nervously spewing out Overwatch facts.” He groans, “Besides! Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”

“What the hell have I been doing the past two weeks? Twiddling my thumbs?” You whisper harshly, glancing over your shoulder to see if the boys had heard anything. But they all carry on obliviously save for Jungkook who hasn’t stopped glaring at you since you left the apartment.

“Look I’m just not ready for this yet,” Hoseok sighs, “I don’t think I have the confidence to really… talk to girls yet, much less go on a date or… fuck them. Is it okay if I just hang out with you for today?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation but it’s no use feigning disappointment when a small voice in the back of your head is rejoicing at the prospect of having Hoseok to yourself.

Quit being weird, you chastise yourself.

“I won’t pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, you know that.” You sigh, “So if you want to sit here and drink cheap beer while listen to Jeon make fart jokes then by all means.”

Hoseok doesn’t say anything but he does visibly relax which is a good sign and for some reason you find yourself grasping at a conversation.

“So ugh,” you clear your throat, “how’s being a TA?”

Hoseok blinks at you as though he’s only just realized your talking to him before shrugging, “It’s fine I guess. I’m surrounded by idiots 24/7 but I at least get paid for it so I can’t complain.”

“And what you’re not surrounded by idiots when you hang out with us?” You snort.

“It’s different though,” Hoseok murmurs, nursing a beer. He squints his eyes thoughtfully, “Believe it or not I actually enjoy your guys’ company.”

“Well shit, I hope so – here I was thinking we were like friends and stuff.” You snort.

“Are we though?” He murmurs thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m not just inexperienced with girls. I’m sure it’s obvious but I don’t exactly draw in a lot of fans what with being you know, me and all.”

“Will you stop doing that?” You asked, suddenly annoyed at his self deprecating tone.

Hoseok jumps, startled by your outburst, “Doing what?”

“Being all like down on yourself and shit. It’s like pathetic,” you grumble defiantly, “You don’t need fans in life or people who’ll kiss your ass—you’re not an idol. Real people need real friends to make fun of them and like talk shit to them and stuff, you know?”

“Why are you always doing that?” He implores and you raise your gaze to his, only his expression isn’t one of defense, only pure curiosity lies in wait.

“The same reason you gave me that whole spiel about not giving up on life and shit.” You say, “Because friends talk shit to you and about you but they don’t kick you when you’re down and it really, really bugs me to hear you say stuff like that about yourself, yeah? Leave that to me.”

Hoseok stares at you for a beat too long, taking in the angry slant of your eyebrows and the way your lips purse in respite.

Hoseok’s cheeks burn red hot, tears pricking at his eyes and despite how they beg to be freed from their confines, to run wet tracks down his cheeks he doesn’t let them. His lips purse in an attempt to choke back a sob and he stares down at the linoleum weakly.

“What are you waiting for? Pick them up.” Someone snickers behind him.

He blinks down at his hands questioningly, because what was the point? The hallway seemed to be cloaked in a silence that screamed at him, despite the many people crowding the space.

His books lay scattered around him, and his chest hurt with an agony he was all too familiar with, the sheer overwhelming pity he felt for himself was almost debilitating. He cleared his throat to cover a sniffle, another weak attempt at biting back tears before he’s moving to collect his belongings.

He’s barely on his feet again before they’re being knocked out of his hands with too much force.

A crowd was forming now, and he closes his eyes to try and block out the whispers, the looks of pity because despite how bad everyone felt no one was willing to help. No one ever helped. It was all the same to them, he was there for their entertainment.

And not for the first time, he wondered why.

Why he kept trying. Why he didn’t end it all when he would lay awake at night with a sadness that brought him to his knees. Why he was deemed so unworthy of kindness by people that barely knew him. Why he pushed through when he knew nothing but bruises that pierced deeper than skin and a crippling sadness that only his shower walls would ever hear.

Why, why, why, why me?

“Stop it!”

Hoseok is too dazed, too caught up with disgust and the need to shed his skin, to vomit a sickness that knew no cure.

His heart hurt.

“I said stop!”

When he looks up again it’s you, the girl from the locker the other day and you’re… crying.

Your eyes are bloodshot and your chest is heaving. He wants to know why. He wants to tell you you’re too pretty, even blubbering, lips quivering. You’re too pretty to cry, too pretty to be on your knees, but he’s overwhelmed. By everything, by the silent on lookers, by the almost painful embarrassment.

He barely realizes you’re shoving books back into his bag for him, before you swipe at your nose and drag him along by the wrist. He doesn’t have the mind to ask questions until you’re out in the courtyard, it’s the middle of classes so it’s empty, save for a few stray butterflies that linger.

His feet hesitate by the fountain and you stumble by the sudden halt, turning to face him inquisitively.

“Why are you always doing that?” He whispers, jerking his hand back from yours.

“D-doing what?” You stammer.

“That. Back there.” He says, jaw clenching, “Why do you keep helping me? Why do you care?”

“Because I’m human,” you say indignantly, “and so are you – not a dog to be made to sit and roll over why don’t you act like it?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” His lip curls in disgust, “What would you know anyway, you’re just some stupid cheerleader, you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Really? Because I didn’t see the rest of them stepping into help you!”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” He yells back.

“You didn’t have to!” You say over him, and tears are rolling down freely, “I helped you because it hurt to see you like that! Maybe everyone else can look away but I can’t! Tell the principle, tell your parents, fuck tell anyone! But don’t… don’t take that.”

And just like that your lip is quivering again, only he doesn’t get a chance to see the tears fall this time because you’re storming off, leaving him there to stare after you.

Hoseok blinks himself back to consciousness when he catches sight of your fingers snapping a hairsbreadth from his face, trying to garner his attention.

“Don’t look now but more of your admirers are headed over.” You say quietly and Hoseok visibly stiffens.

“What do I do?” He whispers harshly.

You bite your lip in concentration, debating the consequences of your action before finally relenting when they neared the dug out. You were a flurry of motion that Hoseok’s sluggish, intoxicated brain couldn’t keep up with – but suddenly you were dropping yourself into his lap, his legs spreading on instinct, you grip his frozen arms until they wrapped around you begrudgingly.

“What are you doing?” He hisses.

“Getting those girls off your back,” you scoff, but you have to crane your neck back to speak to him and he suddenly realizes just how pretty your throat is—why could he never tell before now?

“Hey Hoseok,” one of the girls begins timidly, trying to catch a glimpse of him from in back of your body.

“Uh…. hey hi,” he clears his throat.

“You just left us over there with your friends.” The shorter girl pouts and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah sorry I—”

“He’s kind of busy.” You say brightly, leaning back until your back was pressed to his chest, Hoseok grunts over the unexpected weight. “Did you need something?”

“Oh I… sunbae… sorry,” the tall brunette clears her throat as though she’s just noticed that your sitting dead center on top of Hoseok. You frown when you recognize her from one of your economics courses, “I didn’t realize you… and he… were—”

“For tonight we are.” You shrug, gesturing towards Namjoon, deciding to throw him a bone, “but that guys free over there, I hear he drives a Range Rover, you should chat him up.”

The brunette smiles brightly, if a little bit nervously at you but grips the shorter girls arm, dragging her along but not before she withers you with a narrowed glare. You cock a brow at her audacity before she’s turning around with a huff.

Sunbae?” Hoseok queries from behind you, and you barely conceal a shiver when you feel how closely he’s speaking to your ear, his breath smells like beer but when you try to pull back his grip tightens around you.

“Yeah,” you say indignantly, “I know I’m not shit in the science world but I’m in a league of my own in my major.”

“I can see that being true,” he nods, lips turning down, “You’re good at what you do. Just look at how you made me over.”

You try to ignore the fact that his arms are still glued to your waist, hands going to clasp just over your mid section, but it’s hard and he smells so good.

“I had a good base to work with,” you hum, going to sip at your beer and feigning nonchalant.

“Is that a compliment from the ice queen herself?” Hoseok snorts, hooking his chin over your shoulder and your thankful not for the first time that he can’t see your reaction.

“Not a compliment. Just the truth.” You murmur, “Your friends are long gone you know, there’s no need for me to sit here anymore.”

“Mm,” he hums, “so get off then.”

You don’t say anything, just take another sip of your beer, but Hoseok hears your answer loud and clear.

“For someone who’s nervous with girls you sure do seem to feel awfully comfortable with me.” You chastise, watching the field carefully when Nayeon makes an appearances.

“It’s because I know I don’t have a shot,” he shrugs impishly and you know he’s smirking even without looking at him, “It makes it a lot less scary when you have nothing to lose going in.”

“Who says you didn’t have a shot?” You ask, but it’s followed by a startled yelp when a cheer erupts from the bleachers, a bunch of drunk frat guys parading onto the field naked and covered in paint.

“The universe.” He snorts.

“You underestimate yourself.” You note.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He queries, a hesitant hand going to rest on your thigh. He doesn’t know where the burst of confidence came from. Maybe it’s from the beer, maybe it’s from the new clothes, or maybe it’s from the way your stares seem to linger these days—whatever it is you don’t reject his touch either way.

“Exactly what it sounds li—”

“Hey lard ass,” someone calls from above you and you turn your head to glare at Jeon Jungkook, “Nayeon scored the winning point, we’re all heading to the bar are you coming or what?”

“I’m coming, you insufferable little brat.” You hiss.

Jungkook stands there when you don’t move right away, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“What?” You scowl.

“Is that the only seat?” He queries, lip curling, “Is it proper for you to be like that?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What would your parents say if they saw you sitting like that, huh?” He asks, eyes wide as he gestures to your seat on Hoseok’s lap.

Your face flushes deep before you stand up and glare at him, “Are you really scolding me on propriety? You of all people.”

“Yes and so what?” He says, chest puffing or indignantly. He takes a cautious step back before pointing an accusing finger at you, “And sit with your legs closed!”

He ducks when you go to hit him, sticking his tongue out before he races clear across the field and out of your violent reach.

“One more round!” Jimin shouts, shoving a shot glass in your hand.

You lift your head from the table long enough to flick Jimin off, all he does is grin while you groan and lay your head on Nayeon’s shoulder.

“Rock, paper, scissors over who gets to kill him.” You say to Nayeon.

She points a drunken finger at your face, “we… can’t… kill him ’s illegal.”

“It’s self defense. We have to kill him before he tries to poison us—alcohol poison us!” You shout desperately.

“You guys are all pussies!” Jungkook yells, ever the bravado drunk. Hoseok barely keeps him in his seat, halting him from clambering onto the table top, to make what you were assuming he thought was a profound speech—for the umpteenth time that night.

“Hyung,” Jungkook slurs, clapping a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, “I once finished a twelve pack of beer in one sitting and that was, before the Hoover game, I even broke the QB record at our school that day.”

“Was anyone there to see it?” Namjoon asks, sipping at what had to be the girliest drink you’ve ever seen in your entire life—it was fuschia and he was sipping it through one of those skinny black straws.

Fucking weirdo.

“No, it was just me but I swear it happened!” Jungkook yelled vehemently.

“Dude,” Namjoon sighs, “in life, whatever you do, it doesn’t count if your friends aren’t there to witness it.”

“I second that.” Jimin says, raising another shot glass to his lips. It pisses you off how sober he still is when he drank twice as much as you.

“Why aren’t you fucking drunk?” You scowl.

“On the contrary I’m very much fucked,” he says, “I’m what the people call… a functioning alcoholic.”

“Let’s play another game!” Taehyung whines from his spot.

“Let’s fucking not because you’re all a bunch of dirty cheaters!” You hiss, gesturing to the table.

“You’re just saying that because you lost every single time.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, “I even won once.”

“I won a game too.” Taehyung pipes up.

“Me too.” Hoseok shrugs.

“Great,” Yoongi mutters from the inside of the booth, “You’ve each won a game and I’ve lost what feels like a year off my life spending time with you people—we’re all going home winners tonight.”

“I want a recount!” You say.

“There’s no recount in Most Likely.” Jimin points out. “If we find you most likely to do something we point at you, the person with the most fingers pointed at them has to drink.”

“Yes, and every single time you threw out a sentence I had to drink—does it make sense that I would be most likely to do all of the things that were named?” You growl.

“One of them was most likely to win in a cage fight amongst the eight of us, so yes it does make sense.” Yoongi snickers.

“I have a better propositions you limp noodles.” Jungkook says from his spot and all seven of you turn your attention to the drunken boy, “Body shots.”

“There’s two girls and six guys.” Hoseok snorts, “Don’t you think the ratios a bit uneven.”

“Okay shut the fuck up with your math lingo first of all—”

“Ratio isn’t just a math word, dumbass.”

“—second of all two of the six are gay so they don’t count.”

“What makes you think I want to do a body shot off of any of you animals?” Yoongi sneers.

“Because who the fuck wouldn’t want to do a body shot off these smokin’ abs?” Jungkook scoffs.

“I’m in.” You say suddenly, garnering six wide eyed looks.

“Are you serious?” Nayeon giggles, “You queen of ball busting are gonna let one of these morons do a shot off you?”

“It’s all in good fun, right?” You say, catching Hoseok’s eye before turning back to her.

“If you do it then I’ll do it too.” She grins.

“Well I’m out,” Yoongi grunts, “you vagina baring cretins can have at it.”

“Me too.” Taehyung shrugs before sending an apologetic look that you and Nayeon both wave off, “Not my cup of tea.”

“Not your cup of tea or not your cup of genitalia?” Jimin snickers, earning a flush Taehyung. “You all know my answer – I never mind an extra chance to get my lips—”

Disgusting.” You cut him off.

“As much as I would love to lick any part of anyone’s body right now, I gotta run.” Namjoon sighs, before brandishing a notification on his phone, “Duty calls.”

“Are you gonna be okay to drive?” You frown.

“Dude I’ve been sipping cosmopolitans since we got here, I’m pretty sure I’d pass every sobriety test ever.” He rolls his eyes before waving his goodbye.

“And then there were three.” Jungkook says, clapping his hands together, “That is assuming your game?”

His question was directed at Hoseok who seemed to be staring off into space unknowingly. The older boy clears his throat and meets Jungkook’s challenging stare—it annoys him for some reason, and has him sitting up straighter with a curt nod.

“Great,” Jimin says, breaking the tense atmosphere, “Since there’s three of us and two of them, rock, paper, scissors.”

You watch on in silent amusement as they go through three rounds of the game, each boy eyeing the other with a competitive glare, it isn’t until the third game when Jimin’s eliminated that Hoseok meets your eyes.

You take a long gulp of beer to try and hide the flush burning bright on the apples of your cheeks, only hesitating a little when Nayeon drags you to your feet.

“Where do you want it Jeon?” Jimin asks when he comes back baring a tray, brandishing small ramekin of salt, two shots and lime wedges. He’s standing in front of Nayeon when he’s asks the question.

“I’ll do it.” He says, rising to unsteady feet when he grabs the ramekin from Jimin—

And heads straight to you.

You stare at him wide eyed when he goes to drag a finger through the salt, “What are you doing?”

“My body shot.” He shrugs, before sprinkling the salt all down the front of the v in your t shirt. You can’t even glare at him because you were still trying to catch up with his thought process.

“So go do it over there.” You hiss, letting out a small yelp when he plops a lime in your mouth to shut you up.

“Maybe I want something different.” He says, breath fanning over your face due to his close proximity.

You clench your jaw but frown when a little of the lime juice dribbles into your mouth down your chin. You chance a glance at Hoseok but the older boy looks well engrossed in his preparations, allowing Jimin the honors of setting Nayeon up for him while he rubs a hand over his neck awkwardly.

A finger on your chin has you returning your gaze back to Jungkook who’s looking at you with a glint in his eye you weren’t entirely comfortable with.

Your comfortability takes a backseat when the audacious brat goes to shove his shot glass between your breasts, a small smirk quirking at the sides of his lip.

“Ready?” Jimin calls, before patting a hand on either boys shoulder, “Remember this is race – the partner of the loser has to take a penalty shot. Got it?”

Both of them nod and Jungkook tongues at his cheek cockily, making you roll your eyes. You drag one last look at Nayeon and Hoseok who seem to be in their own little world, deep in conversation.

What the hell were they even talking about anyway?

“On your marks. Get set,” Jimin begins, “Go.”

Jungkook’s hand find purchase on your waist and your attention is drawn back to the boy in front of you, his head dips to press a lascivious if unnecessary kiss to your right breast before his tongue is swiping over the sensitive skin, your tummy dips at the sensations. But then his lips are roaming down your cleavage before his mouth is working on sucking back the shot glass and finally he’s setting it down with less haste than someone in a competition should be allowed. Two wide palms come up to cup your face while his lips find yours in a sour kiss, the lime wedge between your teeth drops when your jaw goes slack and Jungkook is swiping up the juice at the corner of your lips with his tongue.

Time seems to slow with his mouth on you like this and you find yourself kissing him back, forgetting for the briefest moment who he was, who you were and where the hell you were at. All that mattered was the way his belly seemed to clench under your hesitant hands and his mouth worked over yours.

But all too soon it was coming to an end and when you pull back Jugkook is panting and Jimin is grinning at the both of you.

“What an unexpected turn of events,” he snickers, but you don’t have half a mind to insult him. Instead you’re still blinking at Junkook who licks at his lips like he’s trying to preserve the taste of you there.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Alright love birds, as wonderful as that show was, you lost – so take your shot like a big girl.”

His words bring you back to focus and your gaze shoots back to Hoseok, only his features are schooled in a composed mask and he’s carrying on a conversation with Taehyung as though nothing out of the ordinary just happened. As though you made out with Jeon Jungkook on a regular fucking basis.

Jimin shoves at your shoulder when you don’t respond right away and you stare down at the shot glass for a moment before someone else is grabbing it out of his hand. Your eyes lift to Jungkook and the way the column of his throat works when he throws it back, not even wincing from the burn of tequila.

He sniffs before swiping at his lower lip, “’s my fault we lost anyway.”

Jimin cocks a brow between the two of you, “Jeon Jungkook taking a penalty shot for someone else? This is a first.”

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes before he gathers his car keys and phone, “I have two a days tomorrow so I gotta be heading out before coach rips me a new one for showing up hung over again.”

He’s already to turning to leave when your hand shoots out to grip his wrist (without out your fucking consent.) Jungkook raises an eyebrow at the limb before you’re letting go, swiping your hands down your jeans nervously.

“I… uhh… you,” you shake your head, “Are you gonna be okay to drive?”

“Are you worried?” He grins.

You scoff at that, “No but it’d be mighty inconvenient to have to plan your funeral during mid terms.”

“I’ll be fine, Princess.” He tsks and for the first time in…. well ever, you find Jeon Jungkook attractive in a way that might just be worthy of contracting a minor STI.

Hoseok watches the entire exchange from his post in the booth, and for some reason a feeling of unease is clawing at his stomach.

He hadn’t anticipated Jungkook doing a body shot off you because well why would he? But the more Hoseok thought about it was more like – why the hell wouldn’t he?

You were gorgeous and you had a body that men would kill for the chance to worship, and it only set you that much further from himself. Paranoia and self doubt find their way back into his brain, where they’ve made a home for themselves, reminding Hoseok to take heed, remember his place, always remember where he stood with you. It was only made worst by the look that Jungkook sends you when he rubs an apologetic hand over your hipbone before bidding you adieu.

The action nags at Hoseok more than should and he finds himself shooting to unsteady feet before his mind has caught up with him. You yelp at the sudden action and catch him before he goes tumbling off the platform the booth is sat a top.

“Alright there, big guy?” You grin, holding him steady, and you pat a patronizing hand over his belly, “Let’s get some food in you and get you home, yeah?”

“I don’t need any fucking food,” he scoffs, annoyed by your sudden caring behavior.

Is that all you saw him as? As someone who needed to be looked after, cared for, handled with kid gloves? Did you not see him as a man, because fuck… fuck if it didn’t feel like it sometimes. When your touches or your glanced would linger he was able to delude himself into thinking that maybe you had wanted him too—when you were at the field and in his lap he thought that maybe… maybe there was something there but—

Leave it to him to read to deep into something that meant nothing to you. In fact, the thought itself angered him, had him flushing with embarrassment.

“I don’t need to fucking go home and especially not with the likes of you.” He sneered, breaking out of your grip irritably.

You call out to him but he’s already made it across the bar, storming off angrily. To his credit he makes it exactly two feet from you before he’s collapsing, the evidence of his low tolerance catching up to him, making his legs wobble unsteadily and the room spin before his eyes.

The last thing he sees is you rushing to his side before everything’s going black and he falls into a deep sleep.

There’s a pounding in his head that just won’t seem to stop, and Hoseok probably could have done without the sour taste on his tongue, every inch of his body is screaming at him to go back to sleep but he’s already penetrated the first barrier and all dredges of slumber leave him, instead nausea and indigestion take its place.

Hoseok rubs at his eyes with the back of his hands, trying to discern his current location, but alas they’re all failed attempts when he realizes the room is pitch black.

He’s just about to get up and investigate when a sliver of light breaks through a crack in the door and your silhouette appears before him.

“Morning sunshine,” you whisper, and he can barely make you out but he can tell that you’ve changed into pajamas and if he squints just enough he can see pink tinged cheeks on a freshly scrubbed face.

“What time is it?” He croaks, annoyed at the revelation that all liquor from earlier has yet to leave his body, courtesy of the woozy feeling in his stomach.

“It’s four am,” you explain, “you weren’t asleep very long but you blacked out at the bar and I told Jimin to just take us here. He’s crashed out on the couch with Taehyung.”

“Oh,” he says before trying to stand, wincing when a wave of vertigo knocks him back on his ass.

“Chill out dude.” You say before diving into the confines of your bed, your body relaxing against the cool duvet.

“I’ll just… I’ll show myself out,” he clears his throat. He hesitates when your grip on his t shirt yanks him back down to your mattress.

“Don’t try and be a martyr tonight, will you?” You sigh, “Just relax.”

How the hell did you expect him to relax when he was laying next to you? Smelling like heaven and looking like sin. Your sleep shorts did little to hide the plump curve of your ass, and your tank top was so low he could make out the beginnings of a hickey—reminding him why he had stormed off in the first place.

Jeon fucking Jungkook.

“What part of relax is lost on you?” You ask, turning on your side to face him, and alternatively giving him a better view of your cleavage. “Never had a co-ed sleepover before?”

“Do I look like I’ve had a co-ed sleepover before?” He snorts.

“Here we go again,” you sigh, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Do you mind telling me why you’re always so down on yourself?”

“You mean other than the obvious?” He scoffs.

“I’m serious I mean, you’re in the top 1% of the country, you’re about to be rich if you think about the fact that you’ll succeed in whatever field you’re about to pursue and now Hoseok, you’re hot.” You say and he tries to ignore the way his cheeks flush at your compliment. “Even when you dressed the way you did before you were still handsome I just don’t see why—”

“Why what? Why I have such a low fucking self esteem?” He snaps, before rising to his elbows to glare at you, “Why are you always pushing this why can’t you ever mind your own business?”

“Because you are my business. We’re friends and—”

You said we were friends, I never agreed to any of it.” He grits out and he doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your features, even in the dim light of your bedroom.

You stare at him for a beat before letting out an annoyed huff and turning on your side, actively blocking him out. Hoseok sighs before carding a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“___.. I… Didn’t mean that I—”

“Of course you did.” You laugh bitterly, “Because no matter how much I think we’re progressing you’re always there to remind me that this is just a debt owed. That every time you spend time with me is purely obligatory with only your end goal in sight.”

“Well why the hell would you want to hang out with me otherwise?” He scowls, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense. But don’t worry because I heard your message loud and clear: I won’t bother you unless it’s related to getting you laid.”

“____,” he groans, “that’s not what I meant!”

You turn back to face him, angrily, eyebrows slashed down in a frown as you glared at him. Even then you still looked beautiful, like a really pissed of fairy laying next to him with the moonlight draping over your fine features.

“I’m going to sleep.” You say, shutting your eyes.

Hoseok rubs at the back of his neck, wondering how he managed to wind up in this position – with you, always with you. And for someone so smart, he didn’t understand anything these days, you had a special way of efficiently fucking him up, confusing him until he was grasping at strings for reason.

The silence in the room was deafening, the only thing keeping him from slipping out was the way you seemed to be pouting, even with your eyes closed and it was so fucking endearing to him. It had his drunken mind reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear—the move was so intimate and uncalled for even to him, so he wasn’t all that surprised when your eyes shot open at the gentle caress.

Hoseok clears his throat, looking for something, anything to say when his hand is frozen in mid-air.

“My parents,” he blurts out.

“Huh?” You whisper with a frown.

“They’re really ,,, demanding,” he explains and when he starts he can’t seem to stop, “you know how you said they’re assholes? Well they’re worst than that, asshole is too nice a word to describe them. They’re really unfeeling, cold, clinical with everything—including their kids.”

“Oh.” You say.

Because really what could you say?

“Yeah oh,” he agrees, “I don’t mind being an engineer, I like it, I like math and science and I like making robots but even that… it bothers them. There’s no time for recreational things, for fun. It’s all about work to them.”

“You build robots?” You implore.

“I find time for it.” He shrugs, “it relaxes me, a lot like dancing but I don’t really have time for either these days.”

Your hand finds his way to his cheek and he lets you soothe over the skin there, acting as though the alcohol is urging on both of your actions. His hand goes up to catch yours, but he leaves it there.

And you both pretend. For now.

“Will you ever let me watch you dance?” You hum, smoothing one of his sideburns gently, and Hoseok lets his eyes flutter shut, “You’ve piqued my interest and now I just feel like you’re doing it on purpose—leaving me waiting with bated breath.”

He chuckles but it’s short lived and suddenly he staring at your lips. “I’ve been too busy for anything that’s not work or school related. I haven’t found anytime to go the studio.”

“Let me tag along when you go,” you yawn, letting Hoseok’s fingers lace with your own.

“I will.” He replies.

“Promise?” You query, but you’re fighting sleep, your eyes are heavy and begging for you to give in to the temptation of a good eight hours of rest.

You never do hear a reply because you’re already dead asleep in a matter of seconds.

Hoseok stares at your sleeping figure for longer than is necessary, taking in the silent rise and fall of your chest, to the soft skin of your cheeks. He waits a beat before letting his finger catch on your lower lip, to swipe there. So lush and full and bruised red with your natural tint.

How is anyone this pretty when they sleep?

It’s but a moment before your own hand is going up to grip his wrist and he freezes with the realization that you’re doing it to keep it there instead of push him away. A sigh leaves him as he watched the way your lashes are fanned down against your cheeks.

So beautiful it hurts.

“You’re too good for me,” he says, but he knows I falls on deaf ears, “in more ways than one. You always were too good for me, even back then. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He stares at you longingly, checking to make sure if your breathing is still even, to see if he should date carry on. He makes the decision with a small smile when a soft snore leaves you.

“Back then you felt like an angel—it’s corny, right?” He whispers, his hand going to push the hair back from your face, “but you were the only good thing I had going for me. Even now, none of this feels real. I hope you’ll forgive me when you find out the truth, I won’t try and keep it from you. I hope you understand that I needed to be with you like this, even just once.”

A mumble of words slip past your lips and Hoseok is frozen stiff by the thought that you might have heard his confession, but you don’t say anything in reply only continue to mutter on about a toaster before you shuffled closer to him and shoved your hands up his shirt.

Hoseok cringed when he felt your frozen skin press against his own and he gently tugs them out from underneath his t shirt before he’s warming them with his own, coaxing you back down from the surface and into a deeper state of sleep. He lets you curl into him, even if he knows it’s only for his body heat, he would take whatever he could get.

Obligatory cuddling was still cuddling after all.

a/n: this chapter was really hard to write for me. i know i mentioned being bullied growing up but a lot of the feelings expressed are things that ive dealt with the loneliness/desperation and i hope if any of u feel like that u feel comfortable enough to talk to me about. that’s all ok ❤️

Greenwalls in Chicago again

Alright so telling this story is gonna pinpoint my location almost exactly by I’m gonna tell it anyway before it slips into my subconscious.

Also, I want to note that this customer was not rude at all. She was actually very nice and polite. If you’re reading this, lady, I’m not really complaining about you. I just wish I had answers and I need to vent this out.

Ok so it was warehouse day and I was in cosmetics rummaging through a tote. Then I notice this lady, just fucking pouring our neutrogena shelf into her basket.

She empties the 2 shelves and asks to be rung up. I, in shock, comply.

At some point while I was ringing, she left to put her basket away. Before she came back, I called the manager over to help me make some sense of this.

As I continue ringing, he comes in and we make eye contact (uncertain and nervous eye contact) and he just hangs around the aisle to make sure she doesn’t do anything weird (I guess).

So I finish ringing up the 2 baskets worth of stuff, the exact total being $1,525.35 (which will be forever etched into my brain), and she pulls out cash.

I ask to see her ID, which is policy for purchases over $50 on a card but I felt this might require it also.

She says she doesn’t have it and I call my manager over and he says it’s fine, since it’s cash. But he stays next to me the rest of the transaction, which I am grateful for.

So I count the cash, my manager checks and counts the cash, and we determine that all 1,530 of her dollars are real and accounted for and we give her the $4.65 change.

Everything is bagged and she leaves. My manager and I agree that 10 years have been added to our lifespans and we feel somehow wronged.

Not even an hour later, this woman comes back. She says her sister found the $1525.35 worth of stuff cheaper somewhere else and wants to do a return. I immediately call back the same manager, as I don’t even know where to begin with this.

He, to my surprise, simply voids the transaction. Done quick and easy. He goes to the safe to retrieve the $1525.35 she paid us from the safe in our office.

He counts it, I count it, she counts it. It is all there and accounted for. She thanks us for being so kind and helpful and takes her leave.

My manager and I once again agree that 10 more years have been added and we still feel wronged.

I put all of the merchandise back on the 2 shelves. And continue putting up ware house as if nothing has happened. But it did happen. It did happen.

normalisjustafairytale  asked:

Felicity finally meeting the star player aka Oliver on her friends(probably Dig, I could see Oliver as a pitcher and Dig catching as a duo) baseball team - the one she she finds does those attractive af pants(honestly tho what magic is there in baseball pants to make them so hot???) better than anyone else out there. (this may or may not be inspired by the days me and my friends used to watch the guy she was crushing on play because of those damn attractive pants) (I LIKE A GOOD BOOTY OK)

“I still don’t understand why I had to come to the game.  Everyone knows that Oliver Queen and John Diggle are the star players,” Felicity said, squinting at the bright sunshine and then rummaging in her large pink tote bag for her prescription sunglasses.  “No offense to Barry and Tommy, of course.”

“Trust us, you’ll want to see a game,” Caitlin Snow said.  

In unison, Lyla Michaels and the Lance sisters, Laurel and Sara, nodded their heads.  

“Okay …” Felicity said, settling the sunglasses on her nose and following the other girls out to the field.  

She had transferred to Star City Senior High three months ago, a skinny sophomore who was more comfortable with computers than with other people.  To Felicity’s utter surprise, she had quickly found a great group of friends, starting with Caitlin and Sara, who were in a few of her classes.  And through them, she had gotten to know Lyla and Laurel, who were both seniors.

Having friends was great … most of the time.  But getting dragged to a baseball game, with end-of-semester exams looming, wasn’t one of those times.  Yet all the girls had been so insistent on her coming, Felicity had been worried what would happen if she didn’t go along.

But if she did go, she risked embarrassing herself, yet again, in front of Oliver Queen.  Because whenever she was around him, she seemed to end up tongue-tied and fire-engine red.  Or, even worse, babbling like an idiot.  Which was not fair–she had a genius-level IQ!

For some reason, Sara seemed to think Felicity had a chance with Oliver and kept pushing her and Oliver together.  Since Sara’s sister was dating Oliver’s best friend, that meant there was plenty of chances for Sara to push Felicity towards Oliver.

“It’s gonna be a lot of fun,” Sara said, linking arms with Felicity.  In her red tank top and black jeans, her hair in a high ponytail and her sunglasses on, Sara was effortless cool.  Meanwhile, Felicity felt like a little girl in her full skirt and t-shirt.

“If you say so,” Felicity said, her eyes widening as they approached the field.  “Wow.”

The baseball complex was much more elaborate than Felicity had expected for a high school field.  More than that, though, after growing up in Las Vegas, she was still a little bit breathless when she saw so much green grass.  

The five girls chatted as they found seats in the bleachers and waited for the start of the game.  Other than Sara, Felicity was the only one who wasn’t dating a baseball player.  Which at least meant she wasn’t the … eleventh wheel?

“And now, taking the field, the two-time reigning state champions, the Star City Stallions!”

The crowd went wild as the home team took the field.  Felicity could see the speedy Barry take up his position at shortstop, and Tommy heading out to right field.  John Diggle, Lyla’s boyfriend, was warming up on the mound.  And even though she told herself she wasn’t looking for Oliver, she scanned the field for him.  

“Where’s Oliver?”  The words slipped out before she could hold them back, making her blush a little.

“Behind home plate,” Laurel said, chewing on a piece of gum.  

“Behind … ?  Ohhhhhh.”  

All the girls sitting beside Felicity exchanged looks and grins that were verging on smirks.  Felicity could see that from the corner of her eye.  But all her attention was focused on home plate.  

Because Oliver Queen, in full catcher’s gear, was crouching behind home plate, his already-snug-fitting baseball pants stretched across his very, very, very nice ass.  

“Oh my God.  I’d pray to that if I wasn’t Jewish,” Felicity breathed out before her cheeks lighted on fire.  

“What about being Jewish would preclude you from praying to Oliver’s ass?” Lyla asked with a grin.  

“First Commandment.  You shall have no other God before me,” Caitlin said.  

Sara snorted.  “Why are we talking about commandments with all the lusting we’re doing?”

Dimly, Felicity heard the other girls debating the question, but she was not paying attention.  Which was probably violating some code of friendship, but … now she understood why they wanted her to come to this game.  Now she knew that whatever she was feeling for Oliver Queen wasn’t just some school girl crush.  No, watching him crouch and kneel in the dirt … she felt like a woman for the very first time.  

A sharp pain in her side brought her back to Earth.  “Ouch!” she said, rubbing her side as she turned to look at Sara.  “What was that for?”

“Go tell Oliver good luck.”  

She blinked.  “Excuse me?”

Sara gestured to their now-empty bench.  “It’s tradition.  Each ball player needs the girl they like to tell them good luck before the game.  That’s where Lyla, Laurel and Caitlin are.” 

Felicity looked around and saw a clump of players and girls along the first-base line.  Then she looked back at Sara and bit her lower lip.  

As much as she would like to go wish Oliver good luck on the game … it wouldn’t count.  Not when she wasn’t the girl he liked.  

“Trust me, Felicity,” Sara said softly.  “He wants you to be the one to cheer him on.”

For a long moment, Felicity looked at the girl who had become her best friend.  Sara was outgoing, wild, always up for a good time.  But she was also incredibly loyal and read people better than anyone Felicity had ever met.  

If Sara said that Oliver liked Felicity … she couldn’t help believing her.  

Swallowing, Felicity glanced down at the field and saw Oliver, still behind home plate, glancing towards the first-base line.  And there was something about his body language that made him look … wistful.  Sad.  A little lonely.

“Okay,” she said, standing up quickly.  She wavered a little and took a deep breath, before climbing over the bleacher risers towards the walkway that would take her along the first-base line.  

She edged down the line, not getting too close to the other couples.  She took another deep breath, then looked over towards Oliver.  He wasn’t looking in her direction anymore, which meant she would have to get his attention somehow.  

Licking her lips, Felicity called out, “Number Twelve!”

Oliver’s head whipped around, and even behind his mask and from this distance, she could tell his eyes widened in surprise.  Then, he gracefully rose from his crouch and jogged over towards the line, pushing his mask up to reveal those gorgeous blue eyes, a slightly-stubbled jaw, and a wide, beaming smile.  

“Hey,” he said, not sounding even a little out of breath as he approached her.  

“Hi,” she replied shyly, gazing at him.  “I’ve never been to a game before, so I … I didn’t know about this tradition.”  

He leaned against the railing that separated the bleachers from the field.  “It’s a good tradition.  Especially if you have a girl.”  

“I … I’m surprised you don’t,” she said, feeling a rush of pleasure at the words coming out flirty instead of shy and vulnerable.  

“Well, you need the right girl.  Else she’ll wish you good luck and you’ll go 0 for 4 with an error,” Oliver said, looking right at her with a small smile.  

Felicity found herself smiling back.  “Maybe I shouldn’t wish you any kind of luck.  Just to be safe.”  

His smile widened and his hand reached out to gently hold her elbow.  “I don’t play safe.”  

Oliver leaned up and just like she knew what she was doing, Felicity leaned down.  And when their lips met, Felicity found herself thinking that Oliver’s way was the best way.  

And from now on, she sure wasn’t going to play it safe.  


My hero

Pairing: Steve x bookworm! reader

Warnings: Robbery, fluff??, Cute steve??

Word count: 988 (sorry its short! I’ve been super busy with finals)

Request: By a darling anon, Maybe something with Steve meeting a bookworm girl? Like her bag got stolen and she’s running after the guy and Steve saves her bag of books? Fluff and all that :) Idk, just books and fluff!

A/N: Finally some Steve fluffiness! Hope you guys enjoy!

Originally posted by ncoleys

Your POV

Immediately after discovering that a new book store had opened no more than two blocks away from your apartment, you dropped everything you were doing, grabbed a tote bag and slipped out onto the street. You made your way through the groups of people cluttering the streets and finally came before the most charming little bookshop that you had thought you’d ever seen.

It had a small bell on the door which rang when you opened it and the inside smelled like fresh baked cookies. There were couches placed all around the shop and rows upon rows of books. You strolled down the aisles, occasionally running your finger along the bindings of the books as you scanned them.

You came across a copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice’, one of your favorites. You tipped it out the the shelf and flipped it open to scan through the pages. You had a copy of this very same book already at your apartment but it was well read and very worn. At least that’s what you told yourself when you snapped the book shut and decided to buy it. You could never resist new books.

As you continued to wander the aisles you found the third book to a series you had been meaning to finish and a new thriller from one of your favorite authors. Deciding that you had done enough damage, you took all of your books up to the oak check out counter. A sweet older woman greeted you there.

“Will this be all for you ma’am?” she asked.

“I think so, yes, but trust me I will be back for more in no time. You’ll be seeing a lot of me around here I imagine.”

“Well then, I look forward to the next time you come around,” she beamed and handed you your books. You placed the books in your tote bag and smiled at her, then turned around to make your way to the door.

The sun was still bright in the sky when you left the shop. You could normally get lost in bookstores for hours and you weren’t sure what time it was. You plucked your phone out of your pocket to check, when someone snatched the bag of books right out of your hands.

You were shocked for a moment and then scanned the crowd of people in front of you for the person who robbed you. You started running after them but you soon felt hopeless as they gained more distance on you and nobody seemed interested in helping a woman who was being robbed. That was until you saw a very large man dart around you and continue to chase the criminal. You slowed your pace slightly and watched in awe as the man easily caught up to the thief and ripped the bag out of his hands. He gripped the man’s shirt and exchanged a few angry words with him, until shoving him away and turning to find you on the sidewalk. He cautiously approached you and handed you your bag keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.

“Oh my god, thank you so much! I was way too slow to catch that guy,” you exclaimed and almost wanted to hug the man who saved your books. He was very handsome after all. He had broad shoulders and a charming smile. The tiniest bit of stubble marked his cheeks and jaw and his dirty blonde hair caught the sunlight.

“It’s no problem ma’am. Just doing the right thing,” he said and shrugged nervously. His cheeks gained a slight pink tint the more you smiled at him.

“Don’t down credit yourself! You’re practically my hero! What’s your name?” You questioned him.

“Steve Rogers,” he beamed and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

“Y/N L/N” you stated and shook his hand.

“That’s a beautiful name” he stuttered and then as if realizing that he had said it out loud, scratched the back of his neck and sent his gaze to the ground. You chose to spare him the extra embarrassment of acknowledging what he had said and just smiled.

“You have no idea how grateful I am. What could I ever do to repay you for saving my books?” His eyes darted to yours with a nervous smile.

“Well um, you could give me your number and I could pick you up tomorrow around 7? If that’s okay with you of course,” he stammered and if it was even possible his cheeks became even more overcome with a blush. A smile spread across your face and you nodded enthusiastically.

“Sure!” you beamed. His eyes widened as his gaze focused on your face.

“Really?” he stuttered.

Yeah really! Here, give me your phone! I’ll text you my address,” his eyes widened at your easy acceptance and reached into his pocket to get his phone. He handed it to you and you swiftly entered in your information.

“Here you go mister, and I will see you tomorrow at 7,” you said and dropped the phone in his palm as you turned on your heel and began to walk away from him. You swayed your hips a little bit more than you normally would with a massive smile on your face.

Justin Trudeau/Emmanuel Macron

I’ve been think about Macdeau WAY too much you guys, anyways here are my unhealthy and sinful headcanons:

Trudeau is
-bi (he was a snowboard instructor as a teen, u know he made everybody swoon) + hella popular at uni
-slept around, but his exes had hard time staying mad at him
-totes happy with Sophie until Macron comes around
-a top

-was caught red handed with fellow student by Bridgette, she has kept his secret ever since, they love each other as much as u can platonically, very supportive (think lavender marriage)
-his parents were controlling and wanted him to do more ‘useful’ things than plays, Bridgette encouraged and nurtured his love of the arts
-she hated her husband, wanted way out of marriage
- Macron knew his parents would never accept that he was gay, his mom was very cold and distant
-Bridgette helped him find his way as a blossoming homo
-Macron marrying her was a way to piss off his parents, but not as much as if he came out + he really does love Bridgette, just not that way
-been too busy for a bf for a while

Macron + Trudeau:
-sparks flew at G7
-what will happen next?
-I NEED FICS ( in English please)

-the end-
I shall find the nearest gate way to hell and enter

@soycosmeefulanito @tru-macdeau @vacroniste @vacron

can’t pretend anymore

grace left mississippi for a reason. she just wants to be left alone. niall is spending the summer traveling through spain searching for the perfect wave and, instead, finds grace. liam has chosen this moment to pop back up in grace’s life. she doesn’t want any of it.

a surfer niall / expat grace / tech billionaire ex liam nsfw one shot

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

jimin 77!! hope you're having a wonderful day ❣️

hi bb! i’m having a great day <3

ok so another anon a while back asked for a drabble and i was stuck as to how to write but this gave me inspiration! i hope you dont mind that i combined the two!! 

⇢ this is a drabble for my fic the ocean, please read that first if u havent :D

100 ways to say ily drabble game
77: “Call me if you need anything.” + mermaid!jimin
word count: 1.5k

“Chim, are you sure?” You’ve asked this question approximately a million times over, but the mock stern expression on his face doesn’t change. “You’ll be okay alone?”

“Babe, it’s just your room, I’m sure I’ll be fine for a few hours,” Jimin rolls his eyes from his position still snuggled in your bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin and he looks so cuddly and soft that you can’t help but smile.

“Joy won’t be back today, and I left you some food in the fridge, you’ll remember to eat right?” You brush his light gray hair out of his eyes tenderly, feeling his forehead for any signs of the fever that plagued him last night. These fevers are pretty common and harmless, caused from a prolonged absence of the sea, and you should be used to your boyfriend’s ailments by now. But it’s his stubbornness that worries you the most. You begged and pleaded for him to just spend a night in the ocean so that he can get better, but stubborn as he is, he argues that he can’t bring you along with him, and spending a day in your bed surrounded by your scent is so much better.

Jimin closes his eyes at your touch, and mumbles an agreement.

“I mean it Chim. Call me if you need anything okay? I taught you how to use the phone the other day, do you remember?”

“I remember,” he says obediently. 

You press a kiss to his cheek in response. “Get well soon baby. I’ll see you after dance.”

With one last glance at his sleeping form, you let yourself out of the room quietly.

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This is the Miss Honey request!!!

• he was in love
• he would probably fall in love with her after like 3 weeks into their relationship
• always visit her at school
• bring her lunch <3
• the kids would always climb on him and feel his muscles bc he was so strong
• all the kids thought they were literally Prince Charming and Cinderella
• whenever she was reading he would always lay his head in her lap and take a nap
• he loved when she wore red and yellow dresses
• was literally blown away by how kind she was
• like it didn’t matter if he had dated her for 2 weeks or 2 years he was still amazed by how generous and understanding she was towards everyone
• always write her little notes
• he would write one just for her and one to read to her class
• Darry would be head over heels for this gal omg

• omg
• first of all
• this would be wild
• he would make fun of her all the time at first
• like he would always nag her about being a bookworm or a prude or whatever but there was always something about her that drew him in
• eventually they somehow started dating
• he would never ever visit her at work
• but one day she miraculously convinced him to come and he lowkey loved it
• he loved the attention from the kids
• but he would take that secret to the grave
• even though she would be super kind whenever he would offer his jacket to her she would never accept it bc it wasn’t her style
• but she would wear his ring or necklace or something of his that was more subtle
• he would always bug her about the jacket thing
• tbh tho it didn’t really matter what she wore of his he just loved to push her buttons
• but she was always super calm bc she knew how he was
• they would be an opposites attract paring for sure but it could work🤔

Two Bit:
• he would 10000% be in utter love with her
• help her set up her classroom every school year
• loved visiting her at her cottage bc it was so cozy and isolated
• he didn’t feel the need to be loud and outgoing and bold
• he could just be himself, since it was just her
• that being said, he would still loooooove impressing her
• bc even though she was super nice and kind, she was kind of hard to impress
• so whenever he did impress her it was absolute heaven
• he loved the tea and hot cocoa she made
• he always loved when she talked about her books
• but since she felt like no one cared, he kind of had to push her to do it
• “darling, I really don’t mind you talking about your books. that’s why I asked.”
• he would totes call her darling I’m just sayin
• I know he would
• also loved visiting her at school
• he would make the kids hysterical
• he cracked them up so much that they begged for him to come every day
• her students would love him so much
• two would pine for this girl nonstop, even when they were together aw💜

anonymous asked:

Can you write a Bechloe fic in which Chloe and Beca start like a competition about how much random things they know about each other and Chloe is surprised bc she would never guess Beca knew her so much even in the little things?

Ahhh yes yes yes. Here ya go!

I Know More Than You Think Beale

They were the last two on campus, go figure. All of the other girls had gone home for Christmas break already. Of course the day they both planned on going home the roads were covered in ice and there was no leaving in site. They were stuck. Stuck in the cold, with barely enough food and the same 10 movies they’d both already seen far too many times than comfortable to count.

Georgia didn’t see very many ice storms, but every couple years a bad one would hit and the whole state would lose it’s shit. Odds are they’d be home barely in time for Christmas- 2 days from then.

While Beca wasn’t particularly looking forward to going home for the holidays, Chloe was heartbroken. She hadn’t seen her brothers in months and she missed her dog more than the rest of her family combined. Beca on the other hand just had Shelia and Roger waiting for her, but they’d be just fine without them. She didn’t even go home for

Thanksgiving. They survived that- surely they could survive Christmas without her.

They were sitting on the couch, Indian style facing each other, playing what felt like their 7th game of Go Fish. Chloe had already won 5 out of the 7, merely because Beca was letting her. Beca threw her cards down, “alright Beale. I can’t do this anymore. We need to try to get out of her. I’m losing my mind.”

“Becs we can’t. The roads are totes iced over. There’s no way I’m letting you drive in this. You can’t even drive in normal weather, what makes you think I’m letting you get behind the wheel in ice covered roads? Come on. Sit back down. I’ll make you some cocoa.”

“Chlo I’ve already had 4 cups of cocoa. That’s too much as it is!”

“Nope. No such thing as too much. Shut up and sit down.”

“Ok fine but give me more marshmallows this time!”

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Delicate Part 4/9

Originally posted by sssmcdlove


Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Y/N - Your name,

A/N: Reader is brilliantly smart but has spent her life being exploited by anyone who finds out about it. She is recruited by Fury to come to the Avengers facility, but it may not be for the reason she thinks.

Not going to lie, I listened to the song Delicate by Damien Rice about a million times while writing this. Also the trailer for Gifted not only left me an emotional mess it also seems to have seeped it’s way a little into this story.

This part is a little long and oh so fluffy. Also please be kind, I have never been to New York before in my life so all of my information is from google maps and virtual tours. 

Part 1 II Part 2 II Part 3 II Part 4 II Part 5 II Part 6 II Part 7 II Part 8 II Part 9

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mvrphysx  asked:

Saw you're taking requests so here is mine! Shidge bringing home their twin boys, Hikaru and Samuel!

Sorry it took so long to get this to you honey <3 I hope it was worth the wait! Also I am taking requests.

Twelve hours. That’s how long it had been since they walked through the doors of their house carrying their two new baby boys: Hikaru and Samuel. It had therefore been twelve hours since there had been a waking moment within the Shirogane household.

His mother Yuki had come over immediately, toting a bag of what she claimed to be necessities for the babies. She claimed the bottle of whiskey was for him, but a few blurry nights in his childhood had him questioning that. After that the Holt herd had come.

Allura in tow because her and Matt had just come back from their honeymoon. Colleen cooed and coddled. Allura stood back, still a bit leery of children after the Coran incident. Matt offered his sister a hug before claiming the kids looked nothing like Shiro so Katie must have slept with the milkman.

After the tired couple had finally managed to shoo their visitors out and the twins were safely in bed, Katie laid her head on her husband’s shoulder. The calm was welcome.

“Did you start the coffee pot?” She asked with a yawn, tracing the grooves of the prosthetic.

“Yeah baby I did,” Shiro kissed his wife’s head before standing.

He walked towards the kitchen, mixing the coffee order he knew by heart. When he returned to the living room, Pidge was spread out on the couch, shirtless, and staring at the monitor like it might come alive.

“Go back to sleep you little shit or mommy’s gonna come in there and fight you.”

Shiro laughed, handing her the cup, “Twelve….sixteen hours in and we’re already threatening the kids. What are you going to do when they become teenagers?”

“Throw up and make you teach them baseball or some sort of sport. Baseball’s the throwing one right? Or is that soccer? Honestly, I’m so tired my brain hurts,” she groaned, rubbing the sleep from her tired brown eyes.

“Then how about, you take a nap. I’m sure the second one of them is unhappy they’ll let us know,” he set the coffee aside, pulling her into his lap and offering a gentle kiss to her temple, “You just take a deep breath and a nap.”

Pidge doesn’t know how long they were asleep for, but the shrill sound of a babies cry was certainly enough to wake both of them up. The interrupted nap was definitely worth it seeing her husband flailing off the couch with a surprised, “Quiznack!”


Originally posted by qt-taehyungssi


A/N: this wasn’t requested but i’ve actually been working on this fic since the new year but i finally finished it! this will be a chaptered fic, that’s why it ends where it does. i really really hope you all like it! and don’t worry, i’m still working on drabbles.

wc: ~4K

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NH Week Day One - Gifts

Special Delivery

Modern AU
T (for language)
Words: 3295
A/N: This is the first NH prompt I’ve written in what feels like forever. I won’t be participating in every prompt this week but I’ll definitely promise you at least three. Hope you enjoy (it’s one of my favorites I’ve written for these two.)

Hinata, no.”

“Really, it’s fine.” She insisted, anxiously fiddling with the ends of her hair. “I want you guys to—“ holding the phone away from her face momentarily, Hinata waited for her coughing fit to pass before inhaling deeply, pressing her phone against her cheek once more, “I want you guys to have fun.”

But it’s your birthday!” Ino all but shouted into the phone. Hinata winced, holding the phone away from her ear slightly. “What kind of friends would we be if we went out without the birthday girl?!

She bit back a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Trust me, you’re going to have a lot more fun without me.”

Bullshit,” Sakura grumbled. Hinata could only imagine the two girls wrestling back and forth over Ino’s phone. “We only have the most fun when we’re all together.”

Exactly. Who is going to hold Forehead’s hair back now when she inevitably drinks herself sick? I’m not doing it.”

Hinata couldn’t help but smile upon hearing Sakura mutter something in the background that sounded like ‘fuck off Pig’. And when she could hear the two start bickering she couldn’t hold back her laugh.

“I’m serious you two. Go out, have fun. I’ll be here, drinking soup and watching Netflix.”

But how am I supposed to give you your gift!?” Ino whined, her attention back to her phone.

“You can give it to me when I see you guys on Saturday for your New Year’s Eve party!”

But then it won’t be your birthday anymore,” Hinata could hear the pout over the phone and had to sigh.

She should’ve known they would’ve protested as much as they were currently. She understood to an extent. It wasn’t that she was too sick to go out—she may have been exaggerating her up-and-coming cold that had notified her of its presence when she woke up that morning—but she was sick, and she did have to go to Ino’s party four days from now. If she went out tonight there was no way she’d be well enough to go to that.

Hinata wasn’t a big fan of drinking and parties—so she mainly went along with it all since most of her friend were—but if she had to choose when to do it, she’d rather be at her best. And two parties in one week would simply be too exhausting for her little introverted heart to take.

So if it meant skipping out on her own ‘birthday party’, she was alright with that.

“Go out. Have fun. Don’t get too drunk. I’ll see you two on Saturday and we’ll make up for the lost time then. Ino, you can give me your present then.”

A pair of giant, over-dramatic sighs were the only response she got.

Smiling, she continued, “Call your Uber and go have fun. I have a date with Netflix. Love you girls, see you Saturday.”

And as quickly as she could, as to not give them any further time to object, she held her breath and hung up the phone. She knew her best friends, and she knew that if she didn’t end the call, she’d likely be suckered into going regardless. She already felt a tad bit guilty for cancelling but reasoned with herself the same way her friends would.

It was her birthday, so realistically she could lay in bed all night if she wanted.

Letting out a deep breath, she laid back further on her bed and reached for her laptop.

Across town, two women—dressed to impress and with faces very carefully made up—frowned at each other across the couch they were sitting on.

The blonde sighed, turning her attention back toward her phone and sighed, idly tapping the blank touch-screen with carefully manicured fingers.

“So what?” Her pink-haired companion asked. “We still go out? That’s hardly an option now.”

The blonde was silent for a few more seconds before an idea struck her. Slowly, a wicked grin spread across her face.

“Oh no,” Sakura deadpanned. “I know that look. That’s not a good look. What’re you thinking of?”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s nothing bad. Wipe that look off your face, it’s ugly.”

Sakura huffed, blowing a carefully curled piece of hair out of her face. “Alright fine. What’s the plan?”

Ino simply grinned wider, “We send her gift to her.”

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I figure there’s probably some sort of customary introduction post people make on these things, so I’ll get to that in a moment but first, I feel I have to share a story about the sweetest old woman I met today when I was grabbing lunch. She had a Les Miserables tote bag so of course I had to strike up conversation with her since it’s a classic. We ended up eating together and she told me the nicest little story about how she was a missionary back in her younger years stationed in Cambodia, and while there she was there she grew very close to this little boy who’d lost his parents, she helped take care of him and was heartbroken when her trip was over and she had to come back. Anyways, fast forward to just about ten years ago and she gets a knock on her door and opens it to this grown man who introduces himself, and before she knows it, he’s telling her about how this kind, gentle woman had helped take care of him when he was a child and he spent so long looking for her just to say thank you and sit down with her, let her know how much good she influenced in him. The world really can be a lovely place when you hear stories like this.

Anyways, I hope that story brought a smile to at least one other person’s face. Now back to the introduction. Miranda Corcoran here, for anyone who doesn’t know.
When it comes to the unfortunate rivalry between you and Zumpie, your url is on point. You're the Hillary: calm, articulate and respectable. Conversely she's the Trump: rude, mocking and spends most of her time talking in circles. Next you know she'll be crying out to "build the wall".
I was more going for Michelle Obama. “When they go low, we go high” Which is probably the best quote of all time and how I try to live my life every single day. Unrelated to all this, but god I fucking miss her and him and when the world made sense. And yes I agree on the second part of that statement wholeheartedly. And OMG, PLEASE? Can she build a wall that keeps her off of my blog? That would be fucking amazing. I think you might be my favorite anon ever.

Yeahhhh….as she screams about being bullied/plays the victim card, demands everyone accommodate her requests, seeks to gaslight, prattles conspiracy theories and threatens censorship petitions. Totes Hillz and Michelle….SHE had to have sent that to herself!

Yankity Spankity

Ok. So. I literally have no excuse for this other than the original post made me laugh so hard and my dear friend @thehexperiment is an enabler and wonderful beta. This is like, the shhitpost-iest thing I’ve ever written, and lordy, was it fun but difficult. It was inspired by a zodiac post about which line from 50 Shades you are, and I thought one sounded very nalu-esq, and then another, and another, and it turned into a challenge, I guess? So all of the following phrases can be found in this… whatever it is lol. 

Post link:

Lucy gets handcuffed to a street meter and let’s be real, it’s only an average day when you’re dating Natsu Dragneel in NYC. Did she mention he was a cop?

Pairing: Nalu, Fairy Tail

Words: 4148

Rating: T

Part: One Shot

Natsu was so dead.

Like, ‘Lucy would have to call Juvia and Levy to help her bury the remains of his stupidly perfect body’ dead.

“Natsu Dragneel!” Lucy screamed, metallic clacks urging on her rage as the handcuff banged around the metal of the street meter. “You get your stupid ass back here or so help me God!” She continued to screech at his retreating back. She watched as he ran faster, and blew her an apologetic kiss as he rounded a corner.

Lucy released a loud noise of anger directed at the sky. A small child looked at her with worried eyes before their mother tugged them along sharply, tapping away on her phone urgently with one hand. Lucy’s love-hate relationship with New York was leaning more into the hate aspect right now.

“Bye.” She muttered to herself, mocking Natsu’s departing squeak. “What the hell do I say to my boss. ‘Hi, sorry my piece is late, my boyfriend gently handcuffed me to a street meter and then said ‘bye’.’” Lucy hissed to herself, tugging futilely on the metal encircling her one wrist. “He’s so not getting laid for a fucking week.”

Lucy toed her bag closer, the large tote tipping on it’s side and spilling her phone onto the sidewalk, along with a tube of lip gloss, several pens, and a dog eared paperback. She bent down with a sigh, trying to kick her contents back into the canvas bag after she had retrieved her phone. She glared dangerously as she noticed a young man with blonde hair eyeing her purse, nodding to herself as she watched him shrug deeper into his grey hoodie and scurry away.

“Levy, I need you to come to the corner of twelfth and twentieth. And bring Gajeel’s spare handcuff key.” Lucy sighed heavier as she heard her friend’s baffled voice turn amused.

“Why? What did Natsu do now?”


“Your boyfriend’s an idiot.” Levy chirped, background noise alerting Lucy to Levy leaving her apartment.

“You don’t know the half of it Lev,” Lucy whined, frowning as she shuffled her bag securely between her ankles, and safely protected from more threatening and broke twenty somethings. “When I woke up from a nap two days ago Natsu had managed to somehow get an orange in my mouth. A whole orange! I still don’t know how.” Lucy groaned under her breath and let her head fall forward to rest on the top of the parking meter she was now leaning on.

“… Was it a small orange?”

“Levy Ashley Mae McGarden you swore to me you would never bring that up!” Lucy banged her forehead on the unyielding metal. Her handcuffed clanked in sympathy.

“I don’t know what you mean, Lucy.” Levy hummed innocently.

“I was drunk off of that contraband vodka Cana brought us.” Lucy defended weakly. “I don’t even remember it.”

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(So my friend recommended me to someone to write a fanfic. Crosshares to be exact. And Crosshares is amazing. As much as I ship WhiteRose and Bumbleby, Crosshares is right up their with them. Out of the prompts I’m going with the hospital one. *because angst*  The person’s name was sketchhungry  I’m not the best writer but I’ll try! Hope you like it! :D)

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since the accident during their mission that left Velvet stuck in the hospital, and she hadn’t woken up yet. “ It’s all my fault.” Coco mumbled to herself again for the umpteenth time. She hadn’t left Velvet’s side at all, save to eat and go to the bathroom. The nurses and doctors had suggested that she go home that if she woke up that they would contact her. Even Fox and Yatsuhashi tried to get her back, but Coco wouldn’t leave.

She sighed as she leaned forward and put her head in her hands, adjusting her sunglasses to go over her hands. The beeping of the heart monitor would drive her mad. It was as if each beep she could hear Velvet’s heart beat. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was their leader and she mad such a stupid decision!

“Damn it.” She muttered to herself as she moved her sunglasses back to properly fit her face, and leaned back. “ Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Coco hissed under her breath.

It was supposed to be simple. Just clear the area of two grimm. Two. That was it. For their team it should have been simple. But each time her mind brought her back to the incident. It should have been so easily avoided.

The fangs of the King Taijtu, biting down onto Velvet. It made Coco’s heart break. Coco turned the chair as she faced Velvet’s bed. They were lucky that it didn’t puncture any major organs. But it’s venom was a whole new demon to fight. Coco took Velvet’s hand in her own as she hung her head. 

“ Please Velvs… Just wake up.”

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Complicated Simplicity.

May or may not have been going through @seiyakanie’s “gift fic” tag and realized that:
1: like 90% of it is from me (hahaha oops sorry not sorry)
2: I haven’t written anything really fluffy for Veralyn in a while.
So here’s a little reward (づ ̄ ³ ̄)づ

The evening was quiet and comfortable. The television droned on, displaying a generic cop show. Volume turned down almost all the way, the noise was a soft background ambience.

The thrilling car chase went unnoticed by the two teenagers, laid sprawled on the couch, as quiet and comfortable as the night was.

Vera had her back to a couch arm, long legs spread either side of Alyn who was resting his head against her stomach, fingers absentmindedly toying with his hoodie strings.

She combed her fingers through his unruly hair, letting out a yawn as she glanced at the clock.

“It’s getting late.” She commented.

“Mhmm.” Alyn hummed in response, making no move to rise from his comfortable position.

“Did you eat today?”

He cracked one eye open, tilting his head slightly so he could see her face. “Maybe.”

She snorted. “That means no.”

He shrugged slightly and nestled back down against her. Hand resting against her calf. “I’ll eat tomorrow.”

Lightly smacking his head, she muttered under her breath. “Idiot. What would you do if I wasn’t here to remind you to do basic things to survive?”

“Starve probably.”

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, what was your life like before meeting me?”


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Aya's Gallavich Fic Rec Starter Kit

The pairing is Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich (also known as Gallavich) from the tv show Shameless. This was written because I am in love with this pairing and I just adore it with an unholy passion. So, enjoy, because all these fics are downright amazing and just so, so good. Written as a companion fic rec starter kit to my 00QJohnlock, MerthurJercy, Percico+Jaisco, SpiderflashSpirk, FrostIron  and Larry Stylinson ones. All fics are below the cut. Enjoy!

EDIT: This rec list has been updated on 03/06/2014

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anonymous asked:

Since I was just looking through your blog and saw that you'd written about it, headcanons about Baratheon!Jon :)

(I usually write Baratheon!Jon in modern AUs, but here’s a canon one!)

(also this is barely what you asked for, I’m so sorry)


Lyanna does not go with the Silver Prince, in the Riverlands, because it occurs to her that such a thing might disappoint Ned, and what disappoints Ned would have disappointed their lady mother. Lyanna courts her father’s disapproval in all things, but could never bear to disappoint her mother in even the smallest things, and so she remains.

She regrets it, for the freedom he promises her is everything she ever wanted, but Mother would have expected her to square her shoulders and grit her teeth and do her duty, as the she-wolf hunts for her pack even in deepest winter, and so, that is what Lyanna does.


Robert is not so bad as she feared - she knows that he beds half a dozen maids within two months of their wedding, but he is so pleasing in their bed that she supposes there is something to be said for all that practice. 

He delights in her, and spoils her as Father forbade Brandon and Ned from doing, when they were home, and she relishes being respected as Lady of Storm’s End, in a way she never was as lady of Winterfell. She tried to help Father run the castle, but Mother’s ghost always lingered too strongly in the corners, in the second chair by the fire in Father’s solar, and so Lyanna had never been enough.

She is enough for Robert, though, and for his brothers, and his castellan and all the servants. There is a sort of freedom to be found in the running of a castle as great as Storm’s End, and Lyanna finds herself satisfied, at least for now.


Missing her moon blood frightens her, especially when it happens three times in a row, and she runs to the maester to confirm her fears.

So many women die in childbed that she cannot understand how not to be frightened, when kind Maester Cressen gently assures her that all signs indicate that both she and the babe are perfectly healthy, and that Robert will be thrilled.

Lyanna knows well that Robert will be thrilled, for he loves her so and wants a whole army of children with her, boys who she knows he hopes will be like Ned in manner and look, so much so that she sometimes wonders if he wed her simply because he couldn’t have Ned.


Little Renly is first enthused and then bored at the thought of a little nephew, which surprises Lyanna as little as Robert’s desperate happiness, but Stannis’ reaction does surprise her. 

He becomes her shadow, quiet and stern for his age, her age, more or less, and it amuses her to see him sitting uncomfortably in the corner of her solar while she entertains the ladies of the Stormlands. He sits there, though, when even Robert’s strident protectiveness is countered by boredom, when there is no threat at all to her, as though offering her the support she knows he feels Robert does not give her.


When their son is born, he is bald and red-faced, with the pale eyes of a newborn and the tiniest hands. Lyanna is half afraid to hold him, feeling clumsy when she nurses him, but Robert has no such fears, toting little Jon about like a prize.

In truth, Lyanna had not wanted to call her son Jon - she could not expect Robert to give his heir a Stark name, but surely a Baratheon name would be better than that of Robert’s stepfather? She does not argue, though, because for all Robert seems to adore her yet, she does wonder what he will do when he no longer finds her disagreement amusing, and she fears it.

She says as much to Stannis, one day, when he has come to visit her and is holding Jon as though he is made of glass, over by the window of her solar which looks out over Shipbreaker Bay. Stannis’ mouth goes thin, as it does when he is grinding his teeth, and promises that he will never allow Robert to hurt her or Jon.


“Did he ever truly see me, do you think?” she asks Stannis one day, when Jon is a man grown with a sister and a brother, warring with his father over Robert’s treatment of her. She had supported Jon when he sought to court Margaery Tyrell, and Robert had not wanted it, had wanted to send Jon to the Vale or the North for a wife. He had taken her disagreement ill, and she bears the mark of it on her cheek.

“I do not think Robert has ever truly seen anyone,” Stannis says irritably, and she rests her hand over his for just a moment, not daring more, and while it is not much, Lyanna finds herself satisfied, at least for now.